


to ease this troubled mind

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Biphobia, Bisexuality, Coming Out, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: the reader comes out to steve as bisexual
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Reader, Steve Harrington/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	to ease this troubled mind

When Elizabeth Nelson comes out as bisexual, she takes the school by storm.

Hawkins has its inevitable LGBT population, but 1984 is not exactly the most tolerant of times, so more than half the kids are still in the closet, and those that aren’t deal with the aftermath every day. They face judgment with composure and bravery, paving the path for the next set of voices.

Elizabeth is the only bisexual person, at least that’s out, and the first bisexual person most of Hawkins has ever seen. She takes it in stride, not faltering beneath the insults or snide remarks, keeping her chin high and her outer exterior unaffected. When Tommy H asks her if she’s going to steal his girlfriend, his tone wickedly cruel and sharp, Elizabeth simply smiles and says, “If you keep acting like this, I won’t need to.”

She’s unapologetically herself in every conceivable way, and you’re so jealous of her that you taste it.

You don’t want the hate, the rumors, the stares, the remarks, and that’s why you’ve stayed tucked so far back into the darkness. There’s light on the other side of the door, but there is cruelty, too. There is a risk, and you don’t know if you’re brave enough to take it.

You and your boyfriend, Steve, sit around the lunch table, listening to your classmates chatter about anything and everything, your focus on deciphering the contents of the meatloaf on your plate. The mention of Elizabeth draws your attention back to the kids at the table.

“There goes any chance of her getting a date,” says another senior, Jake, with a snort. “Who the hell wants to go out with a confirmed cheater?”

“The hell are you talking about, Jake?” muses Eloise, another student, cocking her brows. Your stomach churns, and you shift closer to Steve instinctively, though he’s unaware of your secret. He slips an arm around you, tugging you against him, his gaze and attention on the conversation.

“Everybody knows people who swing can’t keep it in their pants,” Jake says.

“You can’t keep it in your pants, Jake,” Steve snaps, “What’s your excuse?”

The other kids at the table snicker, but Jake rolls his eyes, waving a hand dismissively.

“All I’m saying is, she should just pick a side. Who wants to date somebody who can’t choose?”

“Better than someone who can’t get it up,” you say, the frustration and shame at his words coiling like a snake in your gut and lunging to bite. “You have trouble with that, don’t you, Jakey?”

Jake’s nostrils flare and his face goes red with wage. A retort is clearly building on his lips, but one of the other kids at the table - a girl named Kelly - interrupts him.

“I bet she’s just too chicken to go the whole way,” she says, cocking her badly-shaped brows and puckering shimmery lips. “Like, just say you’re a lesbian, or just stop trying to be cool.”

Jake and Eloise laugh, but the words keep churning around in your gut and stabbing you with hot needles, pecking at the flimsy foundation. There’s a reason you’re not out, a reason you’re hiding, and this is it. It’s horrible, and it’s unfair, and you deserve more.

Your boyfriend of two years doesn’t even know, because you’re too afraid to tell him. You’re afraid he’ll fire the same jabs the kids at the table are, that he’ll leave you, that he’ll hate you, that he won’t trust you. You’re afraid that he’ll think you’ve changed, when you haven’t, when all you’ve really done is fine _more_ of yourself.

You push up from the table, roughly grabbing your tray and slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“You’re all pieces of shit, you know that?” You snap, and turn on your heels, walking out of the bustling cafeteria before the tears pricking at the backs of your eyes can fall.

* * *

Steve finds you soon after you flee the cafeteria and head to your car, approaching the passenger side window and ducking to peer through it, giving you a pleading expression and knocking once on the glass.

With a huff, you reach over and open his door, sitting back and folding your arms across your chest. Your frustrated tears have dissipated for the moment, thankfully, but the anger and the shame are harder to shake, clinging like vines.

Steve drops into the passenger seat and tugs his door shut, shifting halfway to face you, his features twisted in concern.

“Hey,” he says. “What happened back there?” He presses his lips together, brows furrowing. “I know they’re dicks. If you want, we’ll stop hanging out with them _right_ now.”

You give him a half-smile, shaking your head.

“It’s not that.”

He frowns, and asks, “What is it, then?”

You look away, letting out a breath. This wasn’t the way you wanted this conversation to go, but at the very least, you’re in control of it. You don’t have to tell him; you could weave a lie and he would believe you because you asked him to.

But maybe it’s time. Maybe Steve won’t hate you or break up with you. Maybe he will. And it’ll hurt like a bitch, but at least you’ll know.

At least you’ll both know.

“Do you really believe all those things they were saying? About…people like Elizabeth?”

He inclines his head, frowning.

“Why would I?” He asks. “It’s not like _I_ know her. Neither do any of those mouth-breathers.” He pauses, moving across the bench seat to sit next to you, a hand coming up to brush the stray hairs out of your eyes. “What’s this about? You can _talk_ _to me_ , you know.” One side of his mouth quirks up. “Can’t promise I won’t say something stupid, but I _can_ listen.”

You chew on the inside of your lip, heart beating a mile a minute, and swallow the stone in your throat.

“You know I love you, right?”

He flashes you a smile, and says, “You can _definitely_ tell me again.” His expression smooths, more serious, and he says, “I love you, too.”

You try a smile back, and take a deep breath. It’s the moment of truth.

“I’m…like Elizabeth. I like guys, and I like…”

Steve’s brows pull together, and he asks, “Girls?”

You nod, heat flaring in your cheeks, and say, “And I know what everybody says about people that are bi, but I would never cheat on you, or-”

Steve takes your face in his hands, guiding your gaze back to his.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey. I _know_.”

“You do?”

“Just because a lot of people say something doesn’t mean its true. I mean, think about half the shit said about me. About everybody. It’s all bullshit.”

“So you…don’t hate me? Or want to break up?’

“Break up?” He snorts, giving you an incredulous look. “No. Sorry to report, still madly in love with you.”

Your lips curl up in a smile, and you cock a brow, asking, “ _Madly_?”

Steve grins, and says, “ _Madly_.”

He swipes a thumb beneath your eye, plucking up a tear on the verge of falling, and wraps an arm around you, tugging you into his side. He ducks his chin, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I know you and I trust you,” he says. “Even if you won’t watch my favorite movie with me.”

You pull away laughing.

“We’ve watched Back to the Future at least ten times. It’s unhealthy.”

He rolls his eyes, and a goofy grin tugs on his lips.

“What?”

He presses his lips together to suppress his smile, and asks, “Think we’ve ever had crushes on the same girls?”

“Oh, we are _not_ playing that game.”

“Come on! I’m curious! I want to know if we have the same taste!”

You laugh, stretching up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“And ridiculously handsome?”

“Ridiculously ridiculous.”

Steve grins.

“So, it really doesn’t bother you?” You ask. It went well, almost too well, and your doubts and insecurities can’t help but whisper.

“It really doesn’t,” Steve says. “I don’t care who you want to kiss, as long as you’re kissing me.”

“Currently, I only want to kiss you,” you say. After a moment, you add, “But also, Christie Brinkley.”

That same goofy grin pulls on Steve’s lips.

“I told you we had the same crushes.”

“I had, like, all of her magazines.”

“I still do,” Steve says, arching a brow. You snort, and his smile widens.

“Thank you,” you say. “For everything.” For the kindness and the acceptance and the normality of it all.

Steve kisses you again, softly. The same way he always has, like nothing has changed for him. Relief flashes cool in your veins, and you wind your arms around him, vowing not to let go.

The world outside the car is no kinder than when you climbed into it, but this time, you’re not stepping out alone. And the mountain is much easier to ascend with someone by your side.


End file.
